Metamorhposis
by Venonymous
Summary: In a single night decades of peace is shattered. Two brothers watch their city burn and their hopes evaporate with the heat of the night. Although they are saved; is it actually an act of salvation if what saves them damages them the most?
1. 1

**A/N: I guess I'm back with another attempt on a fic. This one will be full of tragedys and things of that sort (I hope so, I don't actually know if it'll be much of a tragedy) so, that'll go as a warning I guess. Thanks for passing by! (and could you leave some words of critics or the sorts if you could? thanks! It'll be very helpful if you do.)**

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><p>Change; it was one of those words that humans fear the most.<p>

_I've changed; we've changed_. Holding each other's heart out into the open we knew that we have came so far from what we were; before we forgot how something so simple yet so happy was like. _You know that we both know that this path of life was never in our dreams_. Though we knew from long ago that this world is broken, but we choose to not know; the power of not knowing. Power is a drug you grow addicted to and the power of not knowing was the ultimate ecstasy that could captivate a man.

But maybe change is just something I perceive, after all, we perceive the world as we are, not as it is.

_We perceive the world as we are, not as it is._

I believe I read that before. Maybe, from that distant childhood in Rajanaga. Before the world became like this; before humanity's unity turned into diversity. _Before we became like this_. Or was it before we opened our eyes to accept how humanity is actually like; I don't know.

We were still young. That afternoon we fought about something silly, I don't remember what it was. But I had to find you because mother was worried. We are brothers after all, and we always will be, Denholm.

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><p>"Denholm! <em>Yeesh!<em> Where are you?!"

Rajanaga was a large city in the midst of a prairie with a large river flowing life through. It was always crowded by this time of day. I was at the verge of giving up because my annoying little brother was nowhere to be seen inside these crowds of people. _This city is overwhelming_.

But the atmosphere around me always reminded me that this was home. The scent of Mister Frederick's newly baked bread on the corner of the street or Uncle John's gunpowder from just across it, the heat of the sun at day or the heat of the torches and glowstones at night. This was truly home.

"Hey, Mister Frederick, have you seen my little brother?"

"Oh that little sprout!" He chuckled as he passed his freshly baked bread to one of the happy customers. "I think he was playing with his friends in the alley, they really make a ruckus ya' know."

"Friends?"

"Yeah, I think," he replied as he scratched his shiny bald head. "Oh—oh no, no, no, it was Graham."

_Oh lord. _"Where did he go?"

I quickly dashed the moment he pointed the way. _Art Alley._ I heard Mister Frederick cheered me as I was meters away; "_Go save him, boy wonder!_"

When my foot stepped into the alley, I could already see Denholm. He was beaten up good; blood was trailing down his nostrils to the sides of his lips and I knew that his vision wasn't as vivid as it was several minutes ago. But with his blurry eyes he was absorbed into the graffiti before him.

"Denholm… What have you gotten into now?"

"Oh, Damy, hehe!" His smile was bright as ever. "They were just punching me because I always hang with Lisa and not them, just a bunch of whiny jellys, no biggy."

I nudged him on the forehead with my fist.

"Ow! What was that for!"

"For being stupid. When they're about to get to you, just run!"

"But it's fun when we're fightin' like this, nehehehe," he replied with a very easy going laugh. _Is this guy a masochist?_

Denholm turned again to the wall before him.

"'We see the world as we are, not as it is.' What does that mean, Damy?"

I turn to my younger brother with raised eyebrows; at that time I didn't quite understood it either. We both tilted our heads in harmony as we tried to decipher what it meant. It was a sentence in the chaos of graffiti and scribbles on the alley wall. It was a sentence that repeatedly echoed throughout my eleven year-old head. But at that time I didn't quite paid much attention to it too, so we walked.

Along this peaceful alley of our hometown there were many murals and graffiti that weren't there the week before. This alley was dedicated to street art which was periodically cleaned so new artist could try to fill in the spaces provided.

"Hey look Damian! Itsa drawing of The Miner!" My brother rushed to the image of our famous hero, Mortimer; who defeated the Enderdragon, sealed its egg with enchanted obsidian blocks, and ceased the work of all Spawner blocks across the Overworld. "Eww! There're also drawings of monsters!"

"These _drawings_ are called graffiti, dummy," I said as I mockingly punched him on the shoulders.

"What was that for?!" Denholm took revenge and punched me back, I just shook it off with a laugh. "But these drawings are _soooo_ cool, I wanna be a drawer when I grow up."

"It's _artist,_ dummy."

"Yeah, whatever, but I'll be a drawer when I grow up," my younger brother replied stubbornly. He made a frame with his index fingers and thumbs as if he were some professional inspired by the universe around him. "Yeah, I'll be a drawer."

"You want to be everything! Yesterday you said you wanted to be a mailman when Mister Hamilton gave you an apple-muffin."

"Well, I can be both! Why are you so bossy?!"

"I am not!"

"Yes you are!"

"No I'm not!"

"You are!"

"Am not!"

Our endless arguments echoed through the alley and on to the streets. _Brothers._

"But when I grow up I wanna be like him," my brother declared as he pointed to Mortimer. "I wanna protect the city and dad and mom and Lorenzo and Mister Hamilton and Lisa and and and everyone else in this city. We could do that, right? Just like how The Miner did it?"

"Yeah sure we could," I exclaimed as I placed my hand on his shoulder. "We'll protect everyone."

"…Promise?"

"Promise."


	2. 2

As time passes, we tend to forget about many things.

And as we grew older many things ceased to be the way it was before.

New Rulers means new regulations. The _Art Alley _now is merely a normal alley. This landmark used to be a free quarter where artist would spray all their thoughts from their spray cans, but the new government did not like this freedom. They wanted order and they wanted law. They wanted a society that nodded to everything they proclaimed.

And as the world turned, many villages turned into towns. And towns turned into states. These different states created different authorities. Where there are different authorities, there is diversity. There was no more unity in our humanity anymore.

As many things changed, there were still some that stayed the same.

"I'm telling ya! If we go through the forest we'll be hella faster," my brother stood still on his argument. "And I can meet _and_ tame one of those ocelots!"

"No. Why are you so persistent," I replied to my brother as I wiped my forehead. "As the State's soldiers it is part of our duty to gather information about our surrounding areas. We. Are. To. Make. A. Map. Why don't you listen to me once in a while?"

"It's you that never listen to me! Why are you so goddamned bossy?!"

"I always listen to you and I am not bossy."

"Do we have to go over this again? And you are bossy! You never change!"

"I am not bossy!"

"Yes you are!" We glare at each other, our teeth gritted and knuckles locked. It was just a second away before the second fight in this week started again. "He-hey, it's been a very _loooong _time since we tested our strength, why don't—"

Just right on time, Lisa pushed our clashing foreheads apart and looked at the map. "_Ugh._ What are you guys arguing about now?"

Denholm and I explained to her at the same time. Our voices were louder than the night, overlaying each other's reasons of our arguments. We were like kids arguing about who broke mom's vase in the livingroom.

"_Oooooo-kay! Seesh! _Let me just take a look at it."

Lisa took a step closer and looked over the map placed on the saddle of Denholm's horse. The moon was full that night, illuminating stronger than the nights before; a benefit to us because we didn't need to craft torches.

"So Denny wanted us to go through here," Lisa said as she pointed the jungles beside the hills. She then moved her finger beside the hill, an unmapped area that the state hasn't officially claimed yet. "And this is where Damian wants us to go," she continued as she scratch her chin.

"_Soooooo," _my younger brother impatiently rushed her.

"I think it's wiser if we go with squad-leader this time."

"Finally! Someone with a rational mind," I rejoiced in victory over Denholm.

"But but but but! I thought you were on my side Lisa! I thought we had a connection… How could you side with this this this—"

"This what," I glared at him.

"This boring thing that I call a brother! How could you, Lisa?"

"I'll give you _two _slices of my frozen pizza when we get home," she persuaded.

"You can't bribe me with— two slices of pizza that you got from the rare Chef Mason of Lillian's Pizza? Okay, let's roll."

We quickly packed up and saddled. We didn't know where we were heading so we took caution of our every step.

After a while we saw something from the top of our horses. It was silhouettes of buildings decorated with the full white moon. There were sparks of fire circling above it, slowly ascending to the sky.

But as we slowly approached it, we knew that something was definitely wrong. The buildings were wrecked. There were no sign of life; all that was left were corpses on the ground with bite marks and missing limbs. The smell of fresh blood and burnt wood danced together with the wind. On instinct, we quickly got off of our horses and unsheathed our swords.

"Bandits?" Lisa tried to keep her voice down. She thoroughly scanned the perimeter, trying to find anything moving behind the shadows and between the rotating floating blocks.

"No. Bandits don't burn down villages," my brother replied to her. He was right, bandits don't burn down villages. Hell, bandits don't chop off arms and legs and leave a trail of corpses on the road. I knew something bigger was at stake; something vile.

"Keep your guards up."

"Hey do you hear that?" My brother turned his head several times in a quick manner. After a while Lisa and I also caught up with the sound. It sounded vague but it resembles the bamboo fields back at home, where kids would use sticks to run across it and make musical notes and random sounds. It sounded like that. But it also sounded like— _rattling bones?_

"Argh!" Lisa moaned in pain. Her left leg was shot with an arrow, but luckily enough her armor prevented it to penetrate deeper into her skin. "Eight o'clock!"

We quickly turned around. We were expecting a group of bandits with leather armor, covered in blood and grinning evilly. We were expecting them grinning from ear to ear, demanding money or other goods.

But the reality facing us differed from what we expected.

It was a grinning skeleton of a full grown man; in detail of all 206 bones in the human body. Covered in ash and in arrows, its mouth was drooling with red fluids and the white in his bones were already stained by the bloods of the villagers that are now laying flat with the ground. It pulled its arrow back and aimed for Lisa.

"No you don't!" Denholm quickly threw his dagger to the skeleton's hand; making its shot miss by a margin. "What the Nether is that?"

"Our _prey_. Formation six!"

We dashed to him from both angles. Denholm slid down and took his right femur as I slashed my sword through its neck. We were right behind the moon when we shattered this skeleton to the ground, sending his head flying with the sparks of fire circling in the sky. It shattered to the burnt grounds that it made moments ago.

Denholm turned 180 degrees around and rushed to Lisa. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, it's just one arrow. I've been through more than this," she said while enduring the pain. She was clearly lying to my brother. "Don't worry. You don't have to think about me."

"I _have_ to think about you. I _can't _stop thinking about you," my brother said in a reassuring voice, completely contrasting his usual personality.

Lisa's blood had already rushed to her face as she heard the words he uttered from his mouth. "_Don't,_" she said in a whisper.

"Sorry to break the moment but- look." I pointed to the footprints, there were many as if a stampede just passed through the village, it was heading out to the wilds. "Burnt down villages, a skeleton, numerous footprints on the ground; it all adds up. The _Mobs_ are back."

"And I don't like where they're heading. That's south… That's…" Lisa tried to evade the reality that was before her eyes. But she knew that it couldn't be avoided. We all knew.

"Home."

As Denholm finished Lisa's sentence, we quickly went to our horses and galloped along the trail left by the Mobs. The forest that was supposed to be blocking the way now has a path with fallen trees and broken branches. Wood blocks and dirt blocks were floating across the new path formed by the hoard. _We have to get home in time. We have to protect everyone._

But we were clearly late.

Our city was in flames; sparks of fire and parts of ash slowly ascended to the moon. Cattle cries compounded with the shouts of women and men and children and infants.

The walls were torn down.

And as we got closer everything was more vivid. How the guards were slaughtered by zombies. How the strong soldiers of our City were made into treats for the Undead. We stopped in our tracks; dumbfounded by the view occurring ahead of us. We couldn't do anything.

"We have to help them! We have to save them! We have to, Damy!" Denholm was ready to jump into the fire but a glint of fear prevented him to do so. "We have to! We have to!"

_But fighting would be useless. If we go into the fire then we would certainly be a dead man walking._ Lisa looked down. She was strong but she wasn't strong enough to watch the darkness that was currently overshadowing our city.

My reasons were going against my emotions.I didn't know what to do. I realized that if I jumped in, there would be a chance to save at least someone. I also realized that if I were to go in there I would have myself killed—or worse, Denholm or Lisa might lose their lives in vain.

But what I didn't realize was that a silhouette was slowly approaching us. It was a man, it was certainly a man. He was dressed in black and there wasn't a single inch of another color on his body.

_A survivor?_

But his eyes- when I met with his I felt time halted.

_It_ wasn't a _he_.

Its eyes were glowing in bright purple. Small particles of purple circled around his body and gradually increased in number. Whispers and screeches bounced on the edges of my brain— and I couldn't take it anymore; it was overwhelming and I could explode when I listened to this.

"What the hell is this?! Make… it… stop!" My brother was squealing in pain; closing his ears like we all did to cease this noise— but it didn't work.

When we couldn't bear it anymore the screeches stopped, now only whispers. But the _thing _was still there. Particles of purples were seeping through its lips and skin; floating unorganized through the air. It was an _Enderman_.

We had to run.

But it was everywhere. No matter where we tried to run it'll be already teleport there. Always two steps ahead of us; always in our path.

We took our swords ahead of us and placed our backs together. But that formation was useless.

It teleported between us and sent us flying in the air.

As I was about to reach the ground, it appeared before me and stabbed its long arms into my chest. I screamed as loud as I could so I couldn't hear the sounds of my cracking ribs or endless whispering and so I could forget the massive pain upon my chest.

The Enderman titled its head and smiled to me. There was something in its smile that made me mesmerized by it; trapping me in a trance. It pulled its arms apart; destroying my body. It took my heart and slowly placed it on my palm, still connected to my veins and arteries.

My vision turned black and white. But I still could vividly see how my brother is repeatedly tortured. How it pulled every bone out of my brother's chest. How my brother's mouth form the letters _h-e-l-p, h-e-l-p._ He was suffering and in pain. It was causing pain but it smiled.

This thing was a horrible monster.

And I was a pathetic older brother, always useless when my brother was beaten up. In my palms I could feel my heart losing slowly losing its beat. As my brother screamed and squirmed I could feel myself losing sanity. The last thing I saw was his intestines tangled upon the red stained soil.

The last thing I heard was the word _brother_.

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><p>AN: if you guys want questions or things or thingys dont hesitate to PM me. askkkk awayyyyyyyy ma fellow readers. and constantly check my bio to know what the f is going on inside my head.


	3. 3

Everything was white. The ceiling, the floors; there were no walls.

I was bare. I knew this was my body. I knew this was me. But I didn't have a clue of where I was.

"_Feeling loooonely? Feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeling out out out out of place?"_

"Who's there?!" I attempted to shout but my voice couldn't escape my tongue. I shouted and shouted but it only echoed in my head. After several tries I finally succumbed to the fact that I could not speak.

"_Hmmm? What? Giving up?" _The voice spoke in a British accent. "_Good, you ought to know when to give up. And you should know also that:"_

_**D**__**A**__**M**__**I**__**A**__**N**_

_**YOU ARE NO HERO.**_

Those words suddenly multiplied and surrounded me and drowned me into its endless black. I shouted and shouted but it was no use. I ran as far as I could but that only occurred in my head. My body was still in place and I couldn't do anything else.

"_Damy damy damydamydamy. You should know when to give up. You should know that you aren't always right. Remember Graham? Remember how your brother got smashed right into the face by him? It was his fault but who did your mother blame? YOU. Yes. YOU are always in the blame! You were never right! You know, the last time you did something you thought were right you let your village ignite the night!_

"_Draw a map— psh. If you continued your envoy throughout the charted jungle you could spare time to save everyone. If you weren't so caught up with your pride you could save everyone. You could save Mom, Dad, Mister Hamilton, Edward, Lorenzo, Lisa, Denholm, everyone. Hear me out, tt wasn't the silly mobs or twisted fate that slaughtered them. It was because your incompetence. It was because of your principles. It was you and oooonly you, Dammy, that killed them. Not the mobs. Not the zombies. Not the Enders. Not the Creepers. Not the skeletons. But you, Damy. You killed them. You kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiilled them._

"_Just give in. You are no hero. Don't lie to yourself. You are not a hero. You are not a hero. You are not a hero. You are not a hero. You are not a hero. You are not a hero. You are not a hero. You are not a hero. You are not a hero. You are not a hero. You are not a hero. You are not a hero. You are not a hero."_

"Yes I am and I will save everyone! Your kinds won't stop me!" Still, my voice was locked inside my mouth.

I felt the darkness spinning around, gathering around my body as everything turned white again. The darkness rubbed against my skin and forced itself in me. The pain was unbearable, and I could not do anything to stop it.

"_Dammy," _The voice whispered into my ear. This time it was very clear that he was right behind me.  
>"<em>People don't have kinds. People are people. Peel our skins off and we are the same onion deep inside. A rotten onion. An absolute lie. We are hypocrites. We are liars. We are the ones that blame the other for another's fault. We are the ones that always want want want but always turn a blind eyes to what we neeeeeeed. We are humans. There are no heroes among us."<em>

I quickly turned around to face this voice. It was a man. He was around 181 centimeters tall (just as tall as I was.) He was wearing a red tuxedo and a paper bag covering his face. His hands were inside his pockets and there was a smiley-face sprayed with red paint on his paper-bag face.

He also wasn't standing behind me; he was standing meters away from where I stood.

"_You are not Mortimer. You will never be like Mortimer. You are not a Hero. You need to understand.I-I- I'll make you understand. I'll make you understand, he-he-he." _A sudden smile crossed his faced._ "But maybe to make you understand you'll need to…"_

The Man suddenly zoomed in just inches away from me; the red smiley face grinning to me in such a cynical manner.

"_Wake up."_

A bright light blinded my sight and now I was in a different room. I gasped for air and struggled to break loose from the straps that were holding me to the stretcher. "Where am I?!" I repeatedly screamed as loud as I could.

The room was filled with brewing pots; boiling mixtures of chemicals and other alchemy items that I did not have any knowledge about. And at the edge of the room there was a furnace with its fire lit.

_Fire_

And as I saw fire, I involuntarily replayed the memory of the scorching Rajanaga; the echoes of collapsing buildings and the screams of the dying men. The chopped limbs and the fresh smell of blood and the suffocating smell of burnt ash. The grotesque vision of that night played on an infinite loop with no stop button.

"Rajanaga! Mother! Father! Denholm!" I suddenly felt overcharged. A sudden strength emerged in me, a strength that never existed before. I broke loose from the bed. Raged, I slammed everything across the room.

My vision was tinted in red. I rushed from one edge to the other, crushing everything in my way. But in my sight there were no brewing pots or cauldrons, it was replaced with Rajanaga; it was Rajanaga and mom and dad and Denholm and Lisa and everyone else. I could feel my brain imploding into smithereens; into fragments of colored liquids spilled across this mysterious room's floor.

_Save everyone. Save everything. Protect everyone. Protect. Save. Protect._

When I thought I saved Rajanaga, nothing was saved. I snapped out of my delusion; greeted by a destroyed room with my fingerprints everywhere. Suddenly something caught my attention.

It was a monster looking right at me. He was human-like; a grown man with dark brown hair and a well-built body. His eyes were bright read and beaming right at me. The lines where his arteries and veins should be were colored in red, glowing just as bright as his eyes.

I was at the verge of losing it when I realized that it wasn't a monster, it was a mirror.

And the thing in the mirror was me.

At that moment I lost control of everything. I jumped to the mirror and shattered it into pieces. I punched the walls, the doors; I jumped to the ceiling and almost ripped it down. _Have I become one of them?_

"Quick Brian, tranquilize him!" I heard a voice. It was calm and elderly and relaxing. It was soft; it was like wisdom gave me a kiss on the forehead and sung me a lullaby to sleep.

I couldn't help but to give in to its softness and sleep.


End file.
